Blowing on Dandelions: A Novel (Love Blossoms in Oregon Series)

by Miralee Ferrell

  “Everything,” Mrs. Roberts blurted, her fingers worrying the clasp of her reticule. “The hotel is horrid. The food is dreadfully expensive, and they only had one small room with a narrow bed for the both of us.” Waving an expressive hand in front of her bodice, she continued, “As you can see, I am not a small woman. Poor Beth almost ended up on the floor before morning, and neither of us got much sleep.” She sucked in a harsh breath. “And when I complained, the odious little man at the front desk told me one of us could sleep on the floor!” She gave a laugh tinged with hysteria. “Can you imagine me doing that?”

  Katherine couldn’t say that the words provoked a pleasant image, but she kept her opinion to herself. “I’m sorry you had such a difficult time, Mrs. Roberts, but I can’t alter my decision about you staying here. If anything, I’m even more certain you wouldn’t be a good fit for my boardinghouse.”

  “But you do not understand.” Mrs. Roberts flopped back against the wood spindles of the chair. “I can’t afford to stay anywhere else.”

  Katherine raised her brows. “I beg your pardon? Didn’t you inform me when you came that you’ve stayed in some of the nicest establishments on the East Coast? They’re far more expensive and lavish than my modest abode.”

  “Yes, of course they are.” Mrs. Roberts’s words held defeat and a sob hovered on the last word.

  Katherine winced. Mrs. Roberts was nothing if not blunt. But the last thing she wanted was anyone else to hear and come running to see what the problem was—especially Mama. “Shh, it’s all right. Why don’t you take a sip of your tea and allow yourself a moment to relax?”

  Mrs. Roberts clutched the handle of her teacup with shaking hands, raised it to her lips, then set it back carefully on the saucer. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to control myself.”

  Katherine waited for her to continue.

  “I lost a lot of my money a number of months ago.” A blush crept up her neck. “Never mind how right now; suffice it to say someone I trusted took advantage of me. It left me in a rather precarious situation, and I came out West, hoping to somehow improve my position.”

  Katherine had a good idea how the matron hoped to improve her position, and it had to do with Beth, but she kept the uncharitable thoughts to herself. It wasn’t uncommon for a parent or guardian to arrange a marriage for their daughter or niece to a wealthy man in hopes of filling the family coffers. But Beth wasn’t Katherine’s responsibility, and she had no right to comment on the matter, even if she didn’t agree. Besides, it was possible the young woman might find a man to care for who could provide for both of the ladies.

  Mrs. Roberts dropped her gaze. “I see you don’t approve.” Then she raised her clear brown eyes. “Well, neither do I, but I don’t want my niece placed in servitude in some rich man’s home, nor do I want either of us to land in the poor house.”

  “I’m not sure what that has to do with me,” Katherine said.

  “Oh, dear, I am making a mess of this, aren’t I?”

  “I don’t know, Mrs. Roberts.” Katherine shrugged. “I don’t see any reason why it makes sense for me to allow you to return here.”

  “Before I came today, I planned on begging your forgiveness for my behavior. Then when I got here and you were so kind … well, I guess my troubles tumbled out instead.” She leaned forward, her face drawn with anxiety. “I know I can be difficult at times. Demanding, even. My sister used to tell me that all the time. Not that it mattered. But in my heart, I knew she was right. I tend to run roughshod over people when I want my own way.”

  She scooted her chair back and picked her reticule off the floor. “I do not expect you to accept my apology; I can see I’ve already turned you against me. That’s my fault, not yours. Besides, I certainly couldn’t promise to be perfect if we returned. I’m not, you know. I’d probably say and do things that would offend you once more, and you’d have to ask me to leave again. I hoped that I could show you how sorry I am, and you would give me another chance. But I won’t press you. I’m sure Beth and I will find something. Good day, Mrs. Galloway, and thank you for your kindness in listening.”

  Katherine sat, unsure what to say or think. This was the last thing she’d expected. Part of her wanted to accept the woman’s decision to leave and hurry her out the door, but deep in her heart she knew her heavenly Father wouldn’t be pleased with that attitude. When she and Daniel had started this business, they’d talked about the ways they might be able to help people—a ministry of sorts, as well as a source of income. Now she had a chance to minister to a woman who was obviously hurting, and all she wanted to do was run the other way—or hope Mrs. Roberts did. She offered a quick prayer for strength. “You can stay.”

  Mrs. Roberts’s mouth gaped. “I beg your pardon?”

  Katherine squirmed. It had been hard enough saying it the first time, but it seemed there was no help for it. “You and Beth may return.” She held up her hand to stop the gush of words she knew was coming. “I’m willing to do this on a trial basis. We’ll say a week, then talk again. I appreciate your apology, but as you said yourself, you can be difficult and demanding at times. I’m not sure that will easily change, and I’m not willing to subject my family or other guests to fits of temper or histrionics.”

  “I understand.” Mrs. Roberts gripped her reticule as though it were a lifeline. “I promise I will try to behave and not complain—too much.” She gave a little chuckle. “It won’t be easy, but I will do my best.”

  “That’s all I can ask. None of us is perfect, Mrs. Roberts, and I don’t expect you to be, either. But I do ask that you try to get along with the other guests—and with my mother.”

  Mrs. Roberts placed her hand over her heart and a whoosh of air exited her mouth. “Oh, my. I had forgotten your mother.”

  “Is she going to be too big of a problem for you?” Katherine rose from her chair.

  “No.” The older woman shook her head vehemently. “I’m certain I can abide—er, I mean, be kind—to Mrs. Cooper.” She grimaced in the semblance of a smile. “At least, I will try.”

  “That’s good enough for me.” Katherine smiled warmly in return. “And since you’ve been so honest with me, I’ll do the same. My mother is not the easiest person to live with. I have trouble with her myself at times. I don’t expect you to put up with her needling you, but I do ask that if it gets too unbearable, you simply walk away. Can you do that?”

  “Yes. Certainly. Thank you.” Mrs. Roberts rushed around the table and threw her arms around Katherine. “You won’t regret this. I promise.”

  Katherine stood still, not sure how to respond. Right now she didn’t know what she’d regret, but one thing she did know—it wasn’t going to be pleasant facing Mama when she learned that Wilma Roberts had permission to return.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Frances sat at the supper table, her stomach burning as though she’d swallowed poison instead of the dinner her daughter had served. Not that she’d tasted any of it with that woman sitting across from her, looking like a cat that had lapped up the last few drops of cream from the milk pail before the dairy wife whisked it away.

  The insufferable creature. Mrs. Roberts—not the poor cat. At least a feline had an excuse for its behavior. Mrs. Roberts did not. She was supposed to have left and not return. Why had Katherine allowed the pair access to the boardinghouse again?

  Of course, Frances had been in her room most of the afternoon with another headache and hadn’t spoken to Katherine. More than likely they came back for something they’d forgotten and Katherine, charitable soul that she was, had invited them to supper. Hopefully she’d remember to charge them for their meal.

  She pasted on what she hoped would pass as a smile. “So, Mrs. Roberts, you could not find any place that served as fine a meal as my Katherine’s? I would have thought the hotel dining room would be an easier place to eat since it is so much closer to where you are living now.”

  A hush fell over the table, and all eyes turned toward
the woman in question. Mr. Tucker seemed particularly interested and … what? Amused? Why would he be amused? Frances frowned. She hadn’t said anything even the least bit comical.

  Of all things. If Wilma Roberts didn’t positively beam with happiness—or was it preening satisfaction? The woman’s face was wreathed in smiles. “Why, I assumed you knew, Mrs. Cooper. Beth and I moved back—not long after luncheon, in fact. We’re very grateful Mrs. Galloway saved our rooms and invited us to stay again. You must be very proud to have raised such a considerate, generous daughter.”

  It took all of Frances’s willpower to control herself. She bit the inside of her cheeks, certain her head would explode. Katherine had invited these people to move back in? What could she possibly be thinking? Why, Wilma Roberts had been positively rude during their last encounter, and Katherine had assured her they’d moved out.

  Frances harrumphed. “Oh, yes, very proud.” She cast a withering glance toward her daughter, who was sitting at the head of the table. “You have no idea.” Focusing back on the cheerful woman, she continued, “Why did you feel it necessary to return? Weren’t you able to find adequate lodging in town? I am sure a woman of your means can afford something far finer than our modest establishment.”

  Mrs. Roberts’s face sagged. Her mouth opened, but no sound issued forth.

  Ah, that got to her, didn’t it? Something was afoot here that would bear digging into. “You can afford better, can’t you, dear?”

  “Mama, why don’t we talk about this later and allow us to finish our meal?” Katherine picked up a tray of raised biscuits and handed them to Lucy, sitting on her right. “Pass these down, dear. I’m sure Mr. Tucker or Beth would like another while they’re still warm.”

  Beth ducked her head. “No, thank you, ma’am. I’ve had plenty.”

  “Nonsense.” Her aunt reached across her, plucked a biscuit from the plate, and set it in front of the girl. “You’re too thin as it is. No man wants a wife who appears to be ready to expire. Eat up, now.”

  Frances narrowed her eyes. “Your niece said she is not hungry, so why force her to eat? She looks perfectly healthy to me.” She did not, but the last thing Frances cared to do was agree with Mrs. Roberts. Her high-handed treatment of the young woman was ridiculous. Of course, Mrs. Roberts was obviously poorly bred and didn’t understand good table etiquette.

  “Well, I never.” Mrs. Roberts’s face darkened and her eyes flashed.

  “Mama! Mrs. Roberts. Please!” Katherine’s words cut across the charged atmosphere.

  Amanda gazed from her mother to her grandmother and back again. “Why is everyone so angry? What’s wrong, Grandma?”

  Frances melted at the apprehension on the little girl’s face. “Oh, honey, it’s all right. Grandma is not angry at anyone. I was only helping Mrs. Roberts. Don’t worry, sweetie.” She caressed Amanda’s hair. “I think there are cookies for dessert. Would you like to go to the kitchen and bring them back in?”

  Amanda’s expression cleared, and she looked toward her mother. “May I, Ma?”

  “Yes, dear, go ahead.” Katherine’s gaze flickered to Frances and lingered there. “I’ll be in to get the coffee in a moment.”

  Jeffery Tucker absorbed the scene in silence, wondering if he should excuse himself or stay in case more fireworks flared. It was always possible he could use this scene as fuel for his work. He settled back in his chair and surveyed the table. Too bad Jacobs was still laid up in his room with that bum leg. Another male perspective might bring a bit more balance to the conversation, but Mrs. Galloway had done an adequate job stepping in between the two combatants. That mother of hers was a corker. She seemed to have an opinion about everything and expected others to agree or move out of her way. Must have been hard for her children and husband to live with—assuming the man had stuck around very long.

  He placed his forearms on the table and addressed Zachary. “When will your father be able to join us?”

  Zachary jumped as though he’d been poked. “What? Were you speaking to me, sir?”

  “I was, but pardon me if I startled you. I didn’t realize you were gathering wool.” He’d seen the boy’s gaze resting on Mrs. Galloway’s older daughter, Lucy, in the past, but tonight he seemed dumbstruck by the newest addition, Beth. The young woman was closer to his own age than Zachary’s, but the boy probably didn’t realize it.

  Warm color suffused Zachary’s face. “Uh, I …” He squirmed in his seat. “What did you ask, Mr. Tucker?”

  Lucy giggled and placed her hand over her mouth, but not before Zachary shot her a frown.

  “I wondered how your father is faring after his injury and when the doctor will allow him out of bed.”

  “Oh.” The boy relaxed. “Soon, I hope. He’s getting pretty restless, and I’m not sure he’ll be willing to stay in that room much longer.” He cast an apologetic glance at Lucy’s mother. “Not that he’s complaining, mind you. It’s just that he’s used to being active and doing for himself.”

  Mrs. Galloway nodded. “I understand, Zachary. No need to worry about my feelings. I can only imagine what your father is going through, and I certainly hope he’s allowed to get up in the next day or two.” She nodded graciously. “Excuse me. I need to go see to the coffee in the kitchen.”

  As soon as Mrs. Galloway had left the room, Mrs. Roberts tapped her fingertips on the tablecloth. “Mr. Tucker, isn’t it?”

  He sat up straighter. “Yes, ma’am, at your service.”

  She surveyed him from the top of his head, down over his shoulders, and to the tips of his fingers. “You don’t look like a man who’s seen many hours of hard labor. What brings you to Baker City? Certainly not mining.”

  The table went still, and every set of eyes swiveled toward him. He’d been able to avoid this question since arriving by turning the conversation back on the person doing the asking. “No, not mining, ma’am. And you’re correct. I wasn’t born to manual labor. How about you and your lovely niece? What brings you to this fair city?”

  “That’s not good manners, Mr. Tucker, to avoid my question. What type of work do you do? Or are you a wealthy man here hoping to find a wife, with no need to work?” She assessed Beth before fixing her attention back on him.

  “Hardly.” He tried to laugh, but it came off as more of a grunt.

  Mrs. Cooper smirked. “Mrs. Roberts, you certainly do not mind asking pointed questions of others. It sounds as though you might be fishing for a rich husband. Are you looking for one yourself, or perhaps for your niece?” Her probing eyes flicked toward the young woman, who wilted into her chair.

  Mrs. Roberts looked as though she might choke.

  Jeffery wanted to laugh, but pity at the poor woman’s discomfiture kept him silent.

  “Who wants cookies?” The high-pitched voice of Amanda entering the room broke the silence and swung the focus to the plate of fragrant molasses cookies balanced between her small hands.

  He jumped up and hurried toward her. “Let me help. We don’t want any of those treats sliding onto the floor, do we?”

  “No, sir. Thank you, sir.” She handed over the tray with a grin. “You can have the first one. Grandma, Ma wants to know if you could bring more. She’s getting the coffee.”

  Mrs. Cooper nodded and rose from her chair.

  Placing the plate on the table, Jeffery plucked a cookie from the edge. “I’ll go see if I can help too.” He sauntered from the room. They’d all been saved by a child bearing treats. From now on he’d make sure not to engage nosey women in conversation if he could avoid it.

  Katherine thanked Mr. Tucker for his offer but sent him back to the table. She needed a few moments with her mother. “Mama? Can you stay here, please?”

  Mama pivoted, the second plate of cookies gripped in her hands. “What is it? I need to take these to the dining room.”

  “I think they have plenty for now, and I’d like to speak with you.”

  Mama plopped the plate onto the counter. “Well! You
did not think it important to tell me you had given in to that woman’s demands and invited her to move back here?”

  Katherine tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear and silently counted to five. Just like Mama. Turn it around on her before she had a chance to say a word. The last thing she needed was a fight. “She didn’t demand anything, and I didn’t invite her, she asked. In fact, Mrs. Roberts was very humble and apologized for her behavior. I thought it only charitable to accept her apology and give her another chance.”

  “Humble? Ha! More than likely an act she put on to get back into your good graces—and obviously, one that worked.” She shook her head. “I would think you would be more discerning, Katherine. You let people pull the wool over your eyes far too often. If you keep this up, you will lose business you can scarce afford. It is obvious the woman is destitute. Did you see the way she avoided my question about her circumstances?”

  “My business is fine, Mama. As for being destitute, Mrs. Roberts paid a full week in advance, and we’ll decide if she stays longer when the week is up.” Katherine spoke the last words without thinking, and her heart dropped when satisfaction flitted across her mother’s face.

  “Ah, so you only agreed to a week. Good. Well, I guess we will have to see if she can hold her tongue and control her temper for a week, then, won’t we?” She picked up the plate of cookies and hobbled out of the room.

  Chapter Twenty

  Micah swallowed the last of his morning coffee and set it back on the tray Katherine held. “Thank you, Mrs. Galloway. That was an excellent breakfast.”

  “I thought we agreed you’d call me Katherine?” She quirked a brow.

  “I recently realized it may have been a hasty decision. Somehow it seems rather disrespectful to call my landlady by her first name.”

  “I’m afraid I’m in the habit of thinking of you as Micah, not Mr. Jacobs. But if that offends or worries you, I suppose I can make the effort to change.” A mischievous smile tugged at her lips.